After Midnight
by White Rose Withering
Summary: Harry gets an anonymous phone call in the middle of the night. Post 5:05.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** **Spooks and all it's characters belong to Kudos and the BBC. If I did own anything to do with Spooks, then Ruth wouldn't have insisted that they leave_ it _unspoken**

**Author's Note: This is a post 5:05 fic. I feel the need to apologize for making Harry sound slightly insane, but only slightly. Please note that there is a third and final chapter to this fic, which will hopefully be posted tomorrow. Enjoy, and please don't forget to review.  
**  
**After Midnight - Chapter One**

She'd contemplated it since she had taken her waking breath.

Trembling and covered in a fine layer of sweat, she'd been terrified that she had forgotten the soft and soothing tone of his voice. Forgotten the way in which he said her name gave her Goosebumps. No one said her name the way he did. He made it sound different, exotic and utterly beautiful.

Her fingers itched to pick up the phone, to dial his number. The urge was so strong she had to dig her fingernails into the palm of her hand to stop herself from doing it. The sharp and sudden pain gave her a moment of clarity.

"_Dying"_ hadn't been as bad as she thought it would be. Any and all traces of Ruth Evershed within the service had come together under the heading of traitor, and _"her body"_ had been dragged out of the Thames. She hadn't asked who would identify the body for the police, but she knew it would be him. She doubted he would have let anyone else have the job.

Zaf had used all the forgery suit's finest tricks in order to create her a waterproof legend. One, he boasted, not even the Security Services would have seen through. Taking on a new legend was like stepping to someone else's shoes. They felt too big and slightly damp, to take the analogy too far. But this one felt different.

She could still see the insane grin on Zaf's face when he presented her with her new passport.

"_Sharon….Pearce?" She asked, somewhat accusatory, looking up from the little leather bound book. _

_He shrugged an elegant shrug that could have meant everything or nothing. "Well, I thought it seemed appropriate."_

Even she had to admit it suited her. At least this way she could take a piece of him with her that didn't revolve around the memory of a single, heated kiss beside the docks.

_But his voice_. What she wouldn't give to be able to hear his voice again, even for the briefest moment.

Her hand reached for the phone before she had a chance to talk herself out of it. She stared unblinking at the keypad. With a sigh, she willed herself to press the first digit.

x x x

The shrill ring of the telephone brought Harry out of his reverie. Not that he had been asleep. That no longer offered him the rest it once did. He couldn't close his eyes without seeing her face, her eyes, her mouth…

His gazed drifted over to the clock beside him, but all he registered was a blur of red. Giving himself a shake, he watched the digital clock face until he could make out the time.

_2:14 am._

He groaned and closed his eyes against the thoughts that began to swirl in his mind. No one called at 2am with good news.

Ignoring the chill along his spine, Harry made his way down darkened hallway, glad that the cats hadn't decided to make the landing their bed yet again. He pushed open the door to the study, and had to blink past the harsh blue glare that emanated from the computer screen. He stumbled through the temporary haze to the desk and picked up the phone.

"What?" He growled into the mouthpiece, not caring that it came out hostile.

x x x

The rough texture of his voice flowed over her skin like silk, and she had to stifle the gasp that rose in her throat. His abruptness held a hint of languor that all voices got as they edged towards sleep. She'd almost forgotten just how much of a touchable sound his voice was.

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came. Words stuck in the back of her throat like a piece of apple, until she was almost choking on air. With a trembling hand, she returned the phone to its cradle with more force than she'd intended.

As she watched the phone rock back and fourth, she fought to breath past the lump in her throat. If she had taken more time in making her decision, then maybe she would have found the right words. Were there any right words to say? She didn't know anymore. After all, what did the dead really have to say?

Her hand hit the wooden table, hard enough for a dull ache to spread through her fingers. The frustration with herself tasted bitter on her tongue.

_TBC..._


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** **Spooks and all it's characters belong to Kudos and the BBC. If I did own anything to do with Spooks, then Ruth wouldn't have insisted that they leave_ it _unspoken**

**Author's Note: This is a post 5:05 fic. I feel the need to apologize for making Harry sound slightly insane, but only slightly. Please note that there is a third and final chapter to this fic, which will hopefully be posted tomorrow. Enjoy, and please don't forget to review.  
**  
**After Midnight - **Chapter Two

She had heard his voice, as clear as crystal, her stomach had filled with butterflies upon hearing his commanding, yet comforting tone. So why hadn't it been enough?

Her thoughts constantly returned to the likes of alcoholics and drug addicts. She thought she finally understood them. They tasted their chosen poison, just enough at first to satisfy their curiosity. But soon it burned in their blood stream, begging for more and more until they were utterly consumed by it.

Though not as deadly as drugs or alcohol, hers was a pleasure that was just as guilty.

It had become a nightly ritual for her, to phone, to listen, to hang up. It was always the same. Most nights she crawled into bed with the phone, close to tears, and prayed that he would stay on the line just a little longer than the night before.

Though the physical pain it caused was almost blinding, his voice could take away all the hurt, she just knew it.

It had come as a complete surprise to her that, when she had considered convincing herself to stop calling, he had started to talk to her.

x x x

Night after night melded together until he wasn't sure when the phone calls had first started.

The first had been pushed to the back of his mind with mild annoyance. He had even tolerated the following few. But when they showed no sign of stopping, he realised that it wasn't just some cold caller, and that it was in fact intentional. By nature he didn't scare easily, he had seen far too much in his life, but there was something about the anonymous calls he didn't like.

The most unsettling thing about them, of course, was Harry's growing habit of starting a discussion with thin air. No longer willing to take the silence on the line, he'd tried to engage the mystery caller in conversation, and ended up babbling about the weather.

As time went on he found himself talking for longer and more in depth. The topics moved away from the weather to one sided discussions about politics and literature. It had surprised him when the caller didn't hang up. Almost as though whoever it was had just called to hear his voice.

Harry sat in his office, his eyes glued to a surveillance report, not that he was paying attention to its contents. He was sure, in fact, that he had read the same sentence at least four times.

With a sigh, he closed the file. He admitted defeat a lot easier these days. He gazed out onto the grid, his eyes automatically drawn to that one desk. Solitary, isolated, detached. Funny how a desk could sum up a person's feelings.

The sound of his door opening brought Harry back to himself. He looked up to see Adam hovering in the doorway, his hand resting lightly on the wood as though he planed to run at any moment.

Harry found a small smile to give him and waited expectantly.

"About these phone calls Harry…"

A groan escaped his throat. He knew it had been a bad idea to tell Adam about his…little problem, but it had seemed like a good idea at the time. He'd probably had a good laugh at his expense.

"Before you go any further, they are being taken care of," He said, cutting him off mid sentence.

Annoyance flashed through the younger man's eyes. "Taken care of? Harry, have you looked in the mirror lately? You look like you haven't slept in weeks."

"I'm fine," He lied.

The blonde scoffed, and walked further into the room. "Have you asked Malcolm to put a tap in?"

"And what would be the point in that? Might I remind you that I'm the only one doing any talking, and they seem quite happy doing all the listening."

"Well in that case it's probably just some lone nut that happened to phone the wrong number and liked the sound of your voice." He turned on his most charming smile.

Harry made a harsh sound in the back of his throat. "Well thank you for that, Mr Carter. I will now, of course, be able to sleep easy." He returned his smile.

Adam met his boss' gaze, a hint of a frown on his lips.

"I'll deal with it, alright?" He said, and made a show of shuffling some paperwork. "Now, isn't there some terrorist you should be following?"

"Alright Harry, you win." Adam made a frustrated noise, and turned on his heel. He paused at the door. "You know who it could be…."

Harry's gaze turned from the paperwork in front of him to Adam faster than a steel trap snapping shut. His voice sounded just as cold. "No."

The younger man shifted uncomfortably under the weight of his gaze. "How do you know if they never say anything?" He pushed.

"Adam, drop it." His voice dropped into a dangerous whisper. "It's not her." His tone left no doubt in Adam's mind that the topic was closed.

With a nod, he slid the door open and stepped out onto the grid, calling over his shoulder as he went. "Fine, but I'll bet you a weeks worth of drinkies at the George that it's her."

The office door closed behind him with record speed, blocking any object that Harry deemed suitably aerodynamic.

_TBC..._


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Spooks and all it's characters belong to Kudos and the BBC. If I did own anything to do with Spooks, then Ruth wouldn't have insisted that they leave _it _unspoken. **

Author's Note: Post 5:05. I feel the need to apologize for making Harry sound slightly insane, but only slightly. It's amazing what you can find on Google these days. Here's the third and final chapter, and before anyone even says it...I plan on doing a follow up to this. Enjoy, and please don't forget to review!!

After Midnight - Chapter Three

"Let me tell you something about guilty pleasures…."

The clock stood at a quarter to three in the morning. Scarlet and the cats had retired some time ago and were probably curled up in a warm corner, dreaming about chasing mice around the kitchen, or in Scarlet's case a very large bone. With the television off, the living room was bathed in a warm, orange hue from the table lamp. And all was silent, except for the low and pleasant murmurings of his voice.

He'd been in less than 45 minutes, thanks to 6's habit of keeping ungodly hours. He was tired and irritable, and thanks to Adam's unwelcome comments, his thoughts kept returning to that single _what if_.

But try as he did, he couldn't stop watching the phone, waiting for it to ring. And just when he'd been tempted to give up the wait, and turn in for the night, that piercing ring broke through the stillness like razors through flesh.

"…The dictionary describes a guilty pleasure as a certain substance or activity a person enjoys, and that said substance or activity is believed to be morally wrong or improper." Harry paused. He almost smiled at how ridiculous the situation was, quoting a passage from a dictionary into a telephone. It was almost Tring worthy material, _almost._ "A glass of scotch, a bottle…looking at old photographs of those you've loved and lost. They're all guilty pleasures, some of which we enjoy more than most."

_There_, something on the line. So quiet that he almost could have imagined it. It was soft, like a laugh, and very feminine. Something about that sound made his stomach twist and turn into knots.

His mouth went dry. "Ruth?"

The silence was so thick he could practically feel it. His eyes fixed on the clock, watching the second hand slowly slip by.

"Harry..."

The sound of her voice, so gentle, cut him to the quick. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the phone. He was glad that he hadn't been holding a glass at the time, hearing from her after so long it would have ended up in millions of pieces on the floor.

"It was you. All along, it was you." It wasn't a question.

"Yes, I…it was." There was a tremble in her voice he couldn't remember ever hearing before. What had happened to her to affect her in such a way? "I don't really know what to say."

He smiled to himself. "Well I've done enough talking for a lifetime, don't you think?"

"But you have such a lovely voice…I...I mean…"

He laughed, really laughed for the first time since she'd left. _Looks like Adam was right_, he thought to himself. "Oh bollocks!"

"What is it?" There was a hint of panic in her voice.

"Hmm? Oh no, it's not you Ruth." _Had he really said that out loud?_ "It's bloody Adam."

"Ah, I see. What's he done now?"

_Where to start?_ "We made a bet, or rather he did, that you were behind the phone calls."

"What did you…I mean, what did Adam bet?" He could tell that she was trying not to laugh.

"A weeks worth at the George."

"Well that….sounds like Adam," She said after a moment's pause. "I bet you wish I wasn't me now. He's going to cost you a fortune." The latter sounded hurried, trying to cover up the insecurities that her voice held.

"No, never." His voice dropped into a low, intimate whisper, the kind of whisper that wasn't meant to be used out of the bedroom. "Just hearing from you again, it's worth every penny."

He tried to imagine her. Not where she was, there were too many possibilities for that, but what she looked liked now. Maybe she'd changed her hair, the colour, the length. Maybe she'd changed her sense of style. But mostly he tried to picture he face. Phone glued to her ear, a small smile on her face, her eyes shining with the same passion that they always did.

"Harry? You still there?"

He realised he'd been quite for a long time, and gave himself a mental shake. "Yes, I'm still here. I'm not exactly going to hang up on you, am I Ruth?"

"Oh I don't know…you might."

_Had she actually just said that?_ "Ruth, stop being so bloody insecure! You know I wouldn't." He'd meant it to sound light, playful even, but he couldn't stop the underlying layer of tension.

She sighed, a soft but heavy sound. "I don't really know what to say." She repeated.

"That's because there's nothing to say. Well there is one thing, but…we decided to leave that unsaid, remember?"

"Harry…"

"Ruth, listen to me. Forget who you are, who you were. Forget that we used to work together…"

"Forget that I'm technically dead?"

"Yes, but don't interrupt!" He smiled in spite of himself. At least she hadn't lost that annoying little habit. "Just forget everything, alright?"

"Is there a point to this?"

With a sigh, he closed his eyes and counted to ten. "Ruth, what attracted you to John Fortescue?"

"What?" He winced at the distain in her voice.

"What attracted you to him?"

"He…he had a nice voice." As soon as it rolled off her tongue, he knew she understood. "Oh."

"You know, when GCHQ told me you were brilliant, I don't think they meant all the time," He said, teasingly.

"So John Fortescue?" She asked, in an attempt to shift the conversation.

He nodded before he realised she couldn't see him. "You met him in a restaurant. Two complete strangers, yet you still knew who he was." He spoke slowly, and full of feeling. "Rather romantic, don't you think?"

"Harry, are you suggesting…"

"I'm not suggesting anything," He said, cutting her off mid sentence. "But chance meetings between two strangers do happen."

"The requiem?" Her voice held a hint of longing, like the desert's sand awaiting the rains.

"You never did have a proper funeral," He said, wistfully.

"Good, I never did like them. Far too many people," She sounded husky and beautiful as ever. "I prefer a more intimate service."

"How intimate?"

"You'll just have to wait and see, won't you?" He couldn't even begin to picture the look on her face.

"Well, far be it for me to interfere with a dying wish."

_The End - For now..._


End file.
